


my life, my love, my drive

by astralscrivener



Series: modern au: squad up universe [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (It's underage in the US :P), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Car Accidents, De-Aged Characters, Drunkenness, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hurt/Comfort, Keith and Shiro are cousins, M/M, Multi, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Underage Drinking, fic request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 10:12:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12981834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralscrivener/pseuds/astralscrivener
Summary: He is eighteen. Legally an adult. Suddenly swamped with medical bills, a new arm to pay for, therapy and rehab to pay for, a joint funeral to pay for. All of that, on top of college tuition. On top of classes he should be attending. On top of a life he should be having. They told him if high school wasn’t good enough, then college would be where it’s at.College, so far, is not where it’s at.At 18, a car accident leaves Shiro an orphan and his cousin's last surviving relative, sparking a chain reaction of events that threaten to ruin his relationships with Matt and Allura.fic request for instagram user luminousfoxcosplay: shalluratt + coping





	my life, my love, my drive

**Author's Note:**

> for instagram user **luminousfoxcosplay** , who requested shalluratt + coping.
> 
> begins 7 years prior to [squad up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12199533/chapters/27702090) (not necessary to read to understand).

**.:coping:.**

            It almost looks like his parents are sleeping, but Shiro knows better.

            Their eyes have been closed for just over two months now, and they will never open again.

            Shiro still sees the day vividly, every time he closes his eyes, or every time he flexes his prosthetic arm. The gray Lexus. The tires screeching. The stoplight flashing green and giving the fatal go-ahead, while someone else ignored the warning to _stop, it_ _’s no longer your turn._

            The collision was head-on. He should take solace in that—his parents didn’t have to suffer for very long. Not like him, his arm pinned and unsalvageable among the wreckage, where he was stuck until the jaws of life were able to bend the twisted metal of the car and free him. Not like him, knocked out on the way to the hospital so he wouldn’t feel the pain. Not like him, rushed into surgery, only to come out with no remaining family members.

            Scratch that.

            One family member.

            One he would have to explain this whole mess to, once he was released.

            He is eighteen. Legally an adult. Suddenly swamped with medical bills, a new arm to pay for, therapy and rehab to pay for, a joint funeral to pay for. All of that, on top of college tuition. On top of classes he should be attending. On top of a life he should be having. They told him if high school wasn’t good enough, then college would be where it’s at.

            College, so far, is not where it’s at.

            “Kashi,” Matt Holt says gently from Shiro’s side, and Shiro blinks a few times and realizes he’s begun crying for the third time in the last ten minutes. Not like anyone will judge him for it—there aren’t that many people left in the funeral parlor to do so. There’s Matt, at his left, making it a point to show Shiro he’s not repulsed by the prosthetic arm, as Shiro feared. Then there’s Allura, at his right side, holding his hand and leaning her head on his shoulder in a silent show of support. Somewhere in the back of the room, eleven-year-old Keith sits with eight-year-old Pidge, both silent but antsy, both of them aware of the situation, Keith more acutely so. At the front of the room, Samuel and Colleen Holt speak in hushed tones to Alfor Altea.

            So few years ago, this same scenario played out, but there was only one casket, not two, and Shiro’s parents were in a tight circle with Sam and Colleen and Alfor, explaining how they were taking in Keith, while Shiro held onto his weeping cousin, and Matt held onto Pidge, and Allura held them all.

            “Takashi,” Matt repeats, and Shiro makes a sound, something distressed, caught between a moan and a whimper. At his other side, Allura shifts, lifting her head from his shoulder, squeezing his hand, and they both turn to look at Matt.

            “Yeah?” Shiro finally asks, and it comes out in a hoarse whisper, and Shiro sees the pain lance through Matt’s expression, for just a fraction of a second, before he steels himself.

            “Whatever you need, we’re here for you. You know that, right?” Matt asks, and cocks his head so endearingly that Shiro’s heart stammers in his chest. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever you need—we’re going to help you.”

            Of course Shiro knows—he’s been friends with the Holt family forever, and this is his fourth year of friendship with Allura. Even applying to college, the Holts and Alfor would get together with his parents, trying to work out some tuition plan for their three oldest children, bearing in mind that Keith and Pidge, eventually, will be making it that far, too. At the time, Shiro and his parents felt bad, even thinking about accepting any offers. They were fine on their own, but college was expensive as hell, and every scholarship that Shiro earned still couldn’t cover the full cost of four years.

            Now, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to cover the cost in full without help. Not unless he talks to the administrators, talks to whoever the hell’s in charge of the FAFSA and see if they’d be interested in granting him more money. All he’s got now is whatever he can make in his job at the Target registers, and whatever his parents have left behind in their wills.

            It’s a miracle they even have wills at this early age.

            “I know,” Shiro finally mutters.

            In the back of his mind, he can see the fights coming. He’ll take what he absolutely needs and nothing more, even if the Holts and Alteas insist on giving him enough to have a larger cushion than necessary. He’ll take what he needs. That’s it. He can’t owe these people. He’s practically been the fifth mouth at the Holt table for years, and now the third at the Altea table. He can’t take more from them.

* * *

            He breaks up with Matt two weeks after Christmas.

            He does it over the phone in an empty kitchen in a dark house, forcing back tears and fighting to keep his breaths even. He expects anger and disbelief and for Matt to call the whole promise of help off, because this is how Shiro repays him after four years of being together? This is how Shiro repays him after his family already tried to cover the cost of the funeral and hospital bills?

            But Matt doesn’t.

            _“Okay,”_ Matt says, taking a shaking breath on the other line, and Shiro pulls the cord wrapped around his real fingers tighter.

            _“Okay,”_ Matt repeats, and then exhales, and laughs a bit, completely incredulous.

            Shiro can’t blame him.

            One week ago they rang in the new year together, with the promise that they’d move forward from this at the other’s side. Even in those moments, Shiro knew it was a promise he wouldn’t have been able to keep, but the delusion was too good to let die.

            “I’m sorry,” Shiro says quietly. “I just—I have so much going on right now, I…I can’t handle a relationship. I can’t give you what you deserve, and it’s not fair to you. I’m so sorry.”

            He waits for the click and the dial tone that tell him Matt’s hung up, but they never come.

            _“I understand,”_ Matt says. _“I don’t know everything that’s going on in your head, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to quite imagine being in your shoes, but I understand. This is gonna take time to come back from. But I was your best friend before I was your boyfriend, and I’ll be_ damned _if you think I_ _’m leaving you high and dry.”_

            The nervous energy that’s been thrumming through Shiro’s every vein since this phone call began vanishes all at once, and Shiro breathes an audible sigh of relief that gets a genuine laugh from Matt.

            They finish the call with not much else to say, mostly more promising from Matt that he’s got Shiro’s back in all this, that the Holt family’s got him, and the Alteas too. And then Shiro hangs up and puts his face in his hands and groans. One phone call of many he’ll have to make throughout the next week, next month, maybe next several months. Shiro peers through his fingers at the phone and glares, curling down all but his middle finger, before he gets up and heads into the living room.

            The living room is lit only by the multicolored light of the Christmas tree. Despite burying his parents a month ago, and despite having no energy whatsoever to celebrate a holiday so cheery, Shiro went ahead and put the tree up anyway. Sometimes he thinks it’s a bad move, because it’s been two weeks and he’s got no energy to take it _down,_ but then he remembers the reason he put it up in the first place.

            Keith is completely wiped out on the floor, some book half-covering his face.

            A smile ghosts Shiro’s lips. He shakes his head and bends down to scoop up his cousin and carry him off to his room, and he spends a few minutes in the dark, sitting at Keith’s bedside, listening to the sounds of his cousin breathing. His last family member. Shiro’s hands curl into fists, for just a moment, before he sighs and uncurls them.

            He’s still got so much to do.

* * *

            “He _what?_ ” Allura asks incredulously.

            “He broke up with me,” Matt repeats, twisting another strand of Allura’s dark, blue-streaked hair and pulling it into the messy braid he’s got going on…sort of.

            Matt tears his heart out of his chest for the third time as he explains what happened to Allura, and she sits patiently between his legs, never once cutting in.

            The first people Matt explained it to were his parents. They deserved to know the reason their son was suddenly irritable, suddenly angry at the world, suddenly prepared to break down in tears if they asked the wrong question. Matt begged them not to be mad at Shiro, and not to be mad at him, either. It wasn’t either of their faults—they were just two people in shitty circumstances.

            The second person he explained it to was Pidge, when his little sister caught him cursing out the driver of the Lexus, cursing out the hospital staff, cursing out the funeral costs and every other person and thing he could think of.

            And now, he’s pouring his heart out to Allura.

            “I’m sorry,” Allura finally says when he finishes, and his face is pressed against the back of her neck, lost in her hair, braid forgotten.

            Allura remembers when Matt and Shiro used to roam the halls of their high school with her—just last year. The two of them were iconic. Everyone knew them; just hearing the names Takashi Shirogane and Matt Holt would light up someone’s face. They were the it couple, established as freshmen, growing stronger as high school went on. They were the ones who were supposed to make it.

            “I don’t think it’s the end, you know,” Allura remarks. “I think, when Shiro’s worked through his problems, and this situation is behind us…I think you two can fall back together.”

            Matt’s arms tighten where they’ve fallen around Allura’s waist, the first telltale sniffles muffled by her hair. Allura shuts her eyes and wraps her hands over Matt’s, and doesn’t let go when he starts to cry.

* * *

            It’s not like he’s crying entirely for himself, he wants to explain. He’s not so selfish to sob over his own tragic lovelife while Shiro’s entire family is dead, minus one. He cries for the both of them, for all three of them, for a broken dynamic and a broken family. Allura must understand it, and Matt lets himself cry a little harder when she doesn’t let go.

* * *

            February becomes March and Shiro spends his not-birthday poring over stacks of paperwork, frustration building with every line he reads. So many ridiculous laws in place, and for what? Just so he has some official document that lets his cousin stay with him?

            Shiro kills the frustrated groan in the back of his throat as he raises his eyes, beyond the dining room table, toward the living room, where Keith watches some TV show that Shiro should probably be monitoring, but Keith’s in fifth grade and should know enough by now what he is and isn’t supposed to be doing. Instead, he focuses in on the fact that this is what he’ll be losing if he loses these court battles.

            Keith lost his parents young—his mom ran out, and his dad passed on, and his dad’s brother, Shiro’s father, took Keith in. Keith is practically Shiro’s little brother, and now a bunch of legal complications threaten the bond they have. It’s stupid, but calling something stupid and refusing to acknowledge it won’t make it go away. So Shiro exhales heavily through his nose, picks up his pen, and gets back to work.

* * *

            Allura’s phone goes off at two-thirty in the morning. She blinks bleary eyes and pulls away from her laptop, where an essay due in seven hours sits half-finished. She doesn’t need to read the caller ID—her eyes barely take in the photo she has for Shiro before she answers the call.

            “Shiro?” she asks, fighting off a yawn.

            _“I-I’m so-sorry I didn’t m-mean—”_

            “Shiro?”

            Allura sits up straighter now.

            _“—you’re probably e-exhausted a-a-and I don’t even kn-know why I-I called I’m s-so—”_

            “What happened?”

            It takes a long time. Shiro babbles for a while, Allura staying on the line the whole time while she pulls on shoes, tugs arms into coat sleeves, swipes her car keys from her desk and decides _screw the essay, I can BS it later._ Eventually, when she sits down in her car and waits, Shiro gets to his point.

            _“I-I called Matt a-and he didn’t answer and I’m sorry just—I don’t know, I can’t—it was so bad, I saw them, I-I saw—”_

            “It’s okay,” Allura says. “You’re okay. Do you want me to come over?”

            _“N-No, Allura, you-you have school in the m-morning—”_

            Sure, she has school, but she’s also a senior and one of the few students the administration is unwilling to cross, and one of her best friends is losing his damn mind, and she’s not going to sit around and let it happen when she can be doing something about it. Besides—he should’ve had school in the morning, too. If this whole situation hadn’t occurred, he would be in a dorm with Matt at this moment, sleeping before an 8 AM.

            The both of them wouldn’t be commuting, taking classes when they could, schedules shot to shit.

            “I don’t care,” Allura says. “I’ll be there soon.”

            Shiro makes a noise, like he’s prepared to fight back, and then lets it go with a long, shaking sigh. _“I-I’ll see you soon.”_

            Allura puts her phone on the passenger seat, and neither one hangs up.

* * *

            “Fucking _shit!_ ”

            Four missed calls and seven barely-coherent text messages are not the things Matt wants to wake up to. All of them are from the same sender, and Matt fumbles to call back when a new text lights up his screen.

* * *

**kashi <3  
**I’m sorry about last night

 **matty h raps  
** wtf why are u sorry I didn’t even answer my phone

 **kashi <3  
**because I was blowing your phone up in the middle of the night and you were sleeping

 **matty h raps  
** what happened last night?

 **kashi <3  
**flashback followed by a panic attack

 **matty h raps  
** jesus christ

 **matty h raps  
** I’m so sorry I wasn’t there

 **kashi <3  
**it’s okay, I’m okay now

* * *

            It’s not okay.

            Matt spends too much time pacing in his room, debating whether or not to go to the Shirogane house in the middle of the day on a Tuesday. He finally decides to go through with it, and he’s ninety percent sure he’s left skid marks in the driveway in his departure.

            The drive to the Shirogane house is under five minutes, but every passing second is a second too long. The driveway only holds Shiro’s car when he gets there, but the prints in the last melting dregs of snow match the bottoms of Allura’s boots—she was here recently. Probably today, before heading out to school. Or maybe last night. Matt can’t be sure.

            He takes the front steps two at a time and raps on the door  impatiently, and winces right after. But if he’s offended Shiro by doing this, then he doesn’t show it when he opens the front door.

            Matt’s eyes flit over his boy— _ex-_ boyfriend—and perform quick analysis. Rumpled shirt. A stain either unnoticed or ignored on the leg of his pants. Dark circles under his eyes, hair left unbrushed and falling in his face. His eyes aren’t red or puffy, but then again, his breakdown was in the middle of the night, and it’s almost noon now.

            “Ma—?”

            “I’m so sorry,” Matt interrupts, and flings himself at Shiro. “And don’t you _dare_ tell me it’s okay that _I wasn_ _’t there._ ”

            So Shiro doesn’t.

            He stands still for a few moments, stunned and processing, before he brings his arms around Matt and pulls him into the house, kicking the door shut behind them. They end up collapsing on the couch, silent, holding onto each other like lifelines. The TV plays some cooking show that Shiro wasn’t exactly paying attention to earlier, and for several hours, they watch it mindlessly.

            Before they went off to college, Matt and Shiro would spend nights at the other’s house, sometimes with Allura, and would roast the contestants on these shows mercilessly. Matt longs for that, but he’s not going to be the first to break up this silence. They don’t mimic one of the judges’ British accents. They don’t go full-on Gordon Ramsay and call out the obscene amounts of ginger in the one contestant’s dish. When their sixth episode ends at three in the afternoon, Shiro untangles himself from Matt and stands up.

            No kiss. No tender looks.

 _It_ _’s for his health and healing._

            “We’ve gotta get Keith and Pidge,” Shiro says. “I-I can get them, a-and you can stay here, or come with me, or…”

            “We’re taking my car. I’ll drive,” Matt offers, also getting to his feet. There’s no way he’s letting Shiro behind the wheel after last night.

            He sees the brief flash of surprise that crosses Shiro’s face before he masks it, nods, and lets Matt lead the way.

            Matt drives as carefully as he can with Shiro in the passenger seat. Matt’s always been careful—he’s got a little sister to cart around, after all—but this time he’s especially so. It’s one of the few times Matt’s been able to drive Shiro since the accident, and Matt watches him from the corner of his eye. He notes the way Shiro drums his fingers rapidly on his leg, and the way his right hand curls around the handle of the door.

            Despite Shiro’s anxieties, getting to the elementary school is easy enough. Keith and Pidge are excited to see both Matt and Shiro as they climb into the back seat, and the two of them take turns talking about their days at school—Keith describes how they’ve begun studying the ancient world in history, while Pidge talks about the little experiment with magnetism her class did during science. Matt wants to listen closer to the little details, but lets Shiro take care of that while he focuses on the crowded roads ahead.

            They arrive home in one piece, Keith and Pidge clamoring for snacktime as Keith gets the door open, and the two of them tumble out, racing for the front door of the Shirogane house. Matt and Shiro don’t immediately follow—Shiro has his eyes closed and breathes heavily, fingers finally loosening around the door.

            “Shiro,” Matt says, “we’re home. You’re okay.”

            “I-I know,” Shiro whispers.

            Matt reaches out and takes Shiro’s hand in his, and Shiro opens his eyes. Instead of looking at Matt, he leans over, glancing out the window at the two kids on the porch, anxiously awaiting the boys so they can go inside and eat and play.

            “I don’t know what I’m going to do if I lose in court,” Shiro goes on quietly. “It’s all _bullshit._ ”

            Truthfully, the two of them still don’t fully understand why this needs to happen in the first place. Something about financial security and homeownership and Shiro being an orphan working at Target and having student loans he’ll need to pay off, and not being fit enough to care for an eleven-year-old.

            “Have you asked Allura’s dad for help?” Matt asks.

            “No,” Shiro says on a long exhale. “I don’t want to impo—”

            “Kashi,” Matt interrupts, “I love you dearly, but you’re being an idiot. Go ask Mr. Altea for help. If there’s anyone who can help you understand this and help you win, it’s him.”

            Shiro rolls his head to the other side, and catches Matt’s gaze.

            “…Alright.”

* * *

            The next month, at a birthday party for Pidge, Mr. and Mrs. Holt and Mr. Altea pull Matt, Shiro, and Allura aside, into the kitchen, away from the celebration in the backyard. It’s there in that kitchen, listening to the distant shrieking of children, that they form a game plan Shiro is forced into going along with, for his benefit.

            Shiro and Matt both need to go to school, that much is clear—two bright young men with good futures ahead of them—but there’s no way in hell Shiro’s letting anyone take Keith away from him. It’s decided, Shiro will fight tooth and nail to adopt his cousin officially, but the Holts will take care of him for as long as it takes for Shiro to get back to school and get a degree.

            “Everyone should experience living on a college campus at least once in their life. It builds character,” Sam Holt explains to him with a hand on his knee, and the most fatherly look on his face.

            Matt and Shiro agree to be roommates, their original plan.

            Matt gets shot down immediately, by everyone, when he offers to find a three-bed, co-ed dorm to share with Allura, when she announces she’s going to the same college that they are.

            “Matthew,” Colleen and Sam and Alfor all warn, while Allura giggles and Shiro rolls his eyes, smiling all the way.

* * *

            Shiro waits until the summer starts to explain things to Keith, as it looks more and more certain that Shiro’s going to win custody. Keith’ll be turning twelve in October, and is more than capable of comprehending the situation.

            “Keith, can you come here?”

            Keith groans from his room upstairs, followed by the telltale sound of a book slamming. The boy jogs down the stairs and pauses at the sight of Shiro, Allura, and Matt all sitting on the couch in the living room.

            “What’s going on?” Keith asks, taking a step back at the sight of three college-age students staring at him. “Am I in trouble? I told you, the window—”

            “No, you’re not in trouble,” Shiro says quickly. “C’mere, kiddo.”

            Shiro scoots over and pats the spot on the couch between himself and Matt, while Allura glances over from Shiro’s other side.

            “You know that I’ve been really busy lately,” Shiro starts. “I’ve been doing a lot of paperwork—”

            “Yeah, so the state doesn’t come and put me in the foster system,” Keith interrupts.

            Shiro goes quiet. Cuts his eyes to Matt and Allura. Back to Keith.

            “H-How did you know?” Shiro asks.

            Keith shrugs. “I…I was pretending on one of those conspiracy shows. I was doing some snooping. …Sorry.”

            Shiro looks to Matt and Allura again, at a loss for words.

            “How much do you know?” Matt asks, and Keith glances up at him.

            “Not a lot. They wanna take me away because Shiro’s not capable. Or something like that. There was too much for me to read through and too many complicated words,” Keith answers.

            Over Keith’s head, Matt gives Shiro a pointed look. “He’s definitely your cousin.”

            Shiro sighs.

            “Alright. Makes this easier, I guess. Listen, Keith: the point is, it looks like I’m close to winning this whole thing. You’re gonna be with me, you’ve got nothing to worry about—”

            “I wasn’t worried,” Keith interrupts. “It’s you. You’re good at everything.”

            Shiro blinks.

            Allura blinks.

            Matt blinks.

            “Okay,” Shiro says, and pinches the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes. “Can I finish, and then you can go back to doing whatever you were doing?”

            “Yeah, okay,” Keith agrees, and Shiro explains the rest of the situation:

            He’s going back to college in September, plain and simple. He’ll be Keith’s legal guardian on paper, but the Holts will be taking care of him. College isn’t far away—the campus is half an hour drive, and that’s if there’s traffic. He’ll be home on the weekends, so Keith won’t totally be alone, and it’s just an experiment for the semester. If it doesn’t work out, he’s back to commuting.

            The nerves creep up on Shiro as he explains. Maybe he shouldn’t be the one adopting Keith. Maybe the Holts should be. Maybe he should’ve ignored their advice and stuck with his plan to commute his entire way through—

            “Okay,” Keith says, and shrugs. “Can I leave now?”

            Shiro doesn’t answer. Next to him, Allura nods, and Keith hops up from the couch, frowning at Shiro before he heads back upstairs to his room.

            “Shiro—” Allura starts, once the door to Keith’s room is shut and they can hear him getting back to whatever he was doing before, but Shiro holds up a hand, stands, and begins pacing through the living room, spilling all of his thoughts at once.

            Allura and Matt try to interrupt, but Shiro talks over each of their attempts.

            “—and even _if_ I get a degree there’s no telling that I’ll get a job and if I don’t get a good job then I’m out thousands in student loans and the will money is going to run out and I can’t take care—”

            “Shiro!” Allura finally shouts, jumping to her feet and grabbing him by the shoulders.

            Shiro pauses, mouth still open. Allura meets his gaze straight on and finds his eyes glistening, a sight that makes her all the more determined to help him in whatever way she can.

            “We’ve been _over this,_ ” Allura says slowly. “You get to be Keith’s legal guardian—he stays in the family. You’ll get to go to college. You’ve wanted to go to college and get out of this town for years, and this is your chance. My dad and Matt’s parents are going to watch Keith when you’re at school. He’ll be taken care of.”

            Matt comes up behind Shiro and puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard.

            “She’s right, Kashi. Everything’s gonna work out. You’ve gotta give it time and let it happen.”

            Shiro looks between the two of them, his two best friends, and forces a smile to his face.

            “…Alright. I trust you two on this.”

* * *

            Matt isn’t present for the court decision.

            He’s stuck in a shift he wasn’t able to worm his way out of at Target, and anxiously awaits a text from either Shiro or Allura giving him either the best or worst news he’s going to get all month. Maybe all year. Several times now he’s had to tuck his phone away as his manager walked by, and had to act like he hasn’t been ready to scream since the moment he set foot in here.

            “Holt!” one of Matt’s asshole coworkers shouts, and Matt scowls before turning around with a pleasant smile plastered on his face.

            “Yes?”

            “Cleanup is needed in the men’s room.”

            Matt drops his smile.

* * *

            Allura doesn’t think Shiro’s ever hugged her harder than he is now. In the middle of the room, in front of every person present—her father, the judge, a few others who aided in making the decision—he picks her up and spins her around, laughing giddily.

            “Oh my God,” Shiro breathes when he sets her down, and for a fraction of a second, he looks like he might kiss her, before the look vanishes and he starts laughing harder. “Holy shit. Holy _shit._ Allura— _holy fuck we did it_ —”

            He presses his face into his hands, and seconds later, he’s shaking all over, sinking to his knees, choking on elated sobs. Allura crouches next to him, an arm around his shoulders, while she reaches out to take his hand. He clutches at her like she’s a life preserver, and she doesn’t move until he does.

            “I’ve—I’ve gotta tell Keith—holy _fuck_ ,” Shiro mutters. “He’s gonna be so excited.”

            Shiro talks all the way out to his car, where Allura makes him get in the passenger seat while she drives, not trusting him behind the wheel when he’s so overwhelmed.

* * *

            Matt finds out two hours after the decision comes down, when Shiro bursts into Target and zips about the store with Keith sitting in the shopping cart, Allura laughing behind them, and Matt does the best he can to hide the from their coworkers. He fails spectacularly, but no one has the heart to stop them. Not when Matt explains the news. Shiro receives congratulations the rest of the time he’s in the store.

* * *

            By the end of October, things are working out. Shiro’s been on campus as a full-time student for two months, and so far, things have been working out smoothly. For Keith’s twelfth birthday, Shiro gave him an iPhone, just so they could keep up correspondence, and Shiro can check in directly, instead of going through the school or the Holts or Alfor Altea.

            So far, he’s only skipped out on one day of classes to be with Keith, on the anniversary of the accident. The next day he plans on skipping isn’t for just over a month, until December. He’ll be spending the day in the cemetery and then at home, classes be damned.

* * *

            There’s a party on campus the day Shiro is gone.

            “It’s not like he was gonna go anyway,” Matt says to Allura as they arrive to the frat house where it’s being hosted, multicolored lights faintly pulsing through curtains in the windows. “Shiro’s never been the party type.”

            “I know,” Allura says, and frowns as they stand outside the door. “It just seems…wrong, I guess. To be at a party while he’s…”

            “He already said he had no problem with it,” Matt says gently, putting a hand on Allura’s shoulder. “Besides, we’re not really here to party. The host? Tried to pull some shit in class with Shiro the other day. Complete asshole. I’m here on a revenge mission.”

            Allura raises her eyebrows.

            “And why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

            “I figured you might tell me it’s a bad idea,” Matt answers.

            Allura scoffs. “Please. I’ve hated the host from the moment he saw me across the quad and catcalled me. Whatever we’re doing here, I’m in.”

            Matt grins and raps on the door, changing his grip on Allura so his arm is around her shoulders.

            “So you’ll agree to pretend to be my girlfriend?”

            Allura chokes. “ _What?_ ”

            The door opens and Allura and Matt both straighten out at once. Neither of them recognize the kid who’s opened the door—he leans against the frame with a red Solo cup in hand, flicking his gaze over the pair, smiling drunkenly and nodding at Matt.

            “Ahh, Maaaatt!” he slurs. “We’re jus’ wonderin’ when you’d show!”

            Allura squints at Matt, and he flashes a sheepishly confused look before he turns back to the kid. He’s never seen him before, but this kid’s apparently heard of _him._

            “An’ ya brought Alluraaaa, _hey girllll!_ ”

            And he’s also apparently heard of Allura.

            “Um, hi,” Allura says flatly.

            “ _Come on innn!_ ” the kid says, and shuffles off to the side to let Matt and Allura through, Allura snaking an arm around Matt’s waist, squished between his side and his messenger bag, and pulling him closer to her.

            “So you’re going with it?” Matt whispers.

            Allura shoots another look at the kid in the doorway, smiling at the two of them even as they walk away, weaving between other drunk students.

            “It’s for your protection,” she says primly, and Matt gasps.

            “How _dare_ you, I’m wounded.”

* * *

            Allura and Matt decline drinks several times throughout the next hour they hang around, as Matt explains his plans for complete and utter humiliation of the host of the party. Shaking up bottles and cans. Leaving some with caps too loose. Matt notes the light switches in the house, while Allura watches his back.

            “Hey baby,” someone mutters too close to Allura’s ear, while Matt’s ducked behind a couch, fiddling with an outlet and some device he’s brought along with him.

            Allura glares up at the boy before her, the epitome of fuckboy if she’s ever seen it. Cargo shorts and weed socks, Sperrys and an untucked button-down, and a backwards baseball hat. He leans against the wall, effectively trapping her between himself and the couch. His drink sloshes over the rim of his cup as he smirks down at her. He’s easily got half a foot on her, maybe more.

            “What’s a pretty girl like you doing alone in a place like this?”

            Allura sets her jaw. “Fuck off.”

            The guy frowns at her. “Aww, that’s no way—”

            “You have five seconds,” Allura snaps.

            She’s hit with the urge to shove this guy’s arm away from the wall and throw his balance off, but then again, she wants nothing less than to touch him in any shape or form.

            “Or what?” the guy asks, and has the audacity to laugh.

            Matt finally pokes his head up from behind the couch, ducking back down as soon as he sees the guy laughing. He’s not quick enough, and the guy stops his pestering of Allura long enough to peer at the blond head hiding behind stained red cushions.

            “Who’s that?”

            Allura snatches the guy’s wrist the moment he reaches for Matt’s head and twists, and the guy howls in pain, whirling on Allura.

            “What the fuck?” the guy snaps, and goes to throw a punch with the hand that’s holding his drink before he realizes what he’s trying to do. Allura seizes his hesitation and brings a knee up, and seconds later, the guy drops his cup and absolutely _wails._

            “Keep your hands to yourself, creep,” Allura snaps, and kicks Matt’s foot. “Come on, let’s go.”

            Matt pokes his head out again, and looks at the guy at the floor, and then up at Allura’s extended hand. Then he looks at the crowd of people who are starting to draw closer, and takes Allura’s hand. “Uh, yeah.”

            Allura yanks Matt out from behind the couch and pulls him back to her side, earning surprised whispers from the rest of the room. She keeps her chin up as she pulls Matt upstairs, flashing grins at the rest of the party. The grins vanish as soon as they’re alone upstairs in an empty bedroom.

            “This is why I never went to huge parties in high school,” Allura mutters with a roll of her eyes, while Matt takes off his bag and pulls out his laptop. “Full of assholes.”

            “Yep,” Matt mutters absently, fingers tapping away at his keyboard.

            Allura narrows her eyes and looks over his shoulder. “What are you even doing, anyway?”

            “Fucking things up,” Matt says. “Remember when we hijacked the intercom your sophomore year? Kinda like that. I’m in the sound system, and I’ve got a connection to the lights. Just don’t question anything and you’ll be fine.”

            “Trust me, I stopped questioning you and Shiro a long time ago,” Allura responds.

            She watches Matt work, and about a minute or so later, the music downstairs changes from hardcore rap to a playlist Matt’s compiled, of the theme songs of children’s shows. Matt grins at his laptop and doesn’t look up as he switches over to the light system—as soon as he clicks on some button, shrieks erupt from downstairs, and even the light in the room they’re in blinks out.

            There’s a series of crashes, and that’s when Matt closes the laptop and shoves it back in his bag, and starts toward the window.

            “Alright, time to go,” Matt says.

            “Out the window?” Allura asks.

            She can’t exactly see Matt in the dark, but she’s pretty sure he’s not smiling.

            “Uh, yeah. Can’t exactly go downstairs. It’s pitch black down there and full of drunk college kids making a mess. Just trust me on this.”

            Matt wrenches the window open while Allura comes up behind him, and both of them get hit with a cold December breeze. Matt peers outside—the window opens to the front of the house, and he almost whoops in victory.

            “Check this—there’s a bay window under us. No problem to climb out of.”

            Matt gets through the window first, clutching the pane with one hand and offering the other to Allura. Allura listens one more time to the screaming going on downstairs, to students tripping over furniture and slipping on spilled drinks, and takes Matt’s hand.

            Matt grins at her once they’re both firmly on top of the bay window, wiggling his eyebrows.

            “ _I can show you the world_ —”

            “Matthew, _shut. Up._ ”

* * *

            As expected, the host of the party gets in huge trouble by the next day, when students show up to class injured or wasted, or skip out entirely, and property damage is discovered. No one ever figures out who was behind the fiasco with the lights and music that led to the chaos—no one except Shiro, who returns to campus the next day and shakes his head in disbelief as he walks into the dorm he shares with Matt.

            “I can’t believe you did that.”

            “He was being a jackass,” Matt says casually.

            Matt watches Shiro cross the room and set his bag down on his bed. A couple years ago, Shiro’s next move would’ve been to cozy up with Matt. Now, his next move is to pull out the chair at his desk, crack open a book, and get right to work.

            “Thanks,” Shiro says, turning around and locking eyes with Matt for a brief moment. “You really didn’t have to.”

            Matt scoffs. “Psh, of course I did.”

            Shiro smiles and turns back around, and Matt continues to stare at the back of his head.

            _I_ _’d do it again._

* * *

            It’s the last frat party Matt and Allura ever attend, but not the last party, period. The next one is held in someone’s dorm, and Shiro goes to this one, too. The night ends with Matt wasted on the floor, on the ground outside of the door. He’s only vaguely aware of someone taking a Sharpie to the back of his plain white tshirt and writing _WELCOME_ on it, of people in the room shrieking “DOORMATT” at the top of their lungs, but that’s about all he can remember from that night. That, and Shiro and Allura dragging him back to their dorm before their RA can catch them.

* * *

            “I think I’m going to ask Allura out.”

            By now it’s March, past Shiro’s twentieth birthday and a few months before Matt’s.

            Matt smiles and claps Shiro on the shoulder and pretends his heart isn’t breaking when he tells him to go for it. Later that night, Shiro comes back to the dorm dark, Matt under the covers, feigning sleep. He stays in his fake-asleep state until he hears Shiro snoring, and then creeps out of bed, and slips out the door.

* * *

            Matt makes a lot of new friends on campus.

            He does so by going to every party he can find. Sometimes he comes back wasted, sometimes he doesn’t. It’s one of the times that he _is_ wasted, stumbling about campus, that he runs into Shiro and Allura, hand-in-hand, on their way back from a date. They both gasp when they see Matt, and Allura breaks from Shiro’s side first.

            “Matt, what the hell?”

            She’s got an arm around his waist immediately, and pulls one of his around her shoulders. Shiro snaps from whatever stupor he was in and gets underneath Matt’s other arm, and Matt relishes every second of warmth that exists between the three of them as they bring him to one of the benches lining this walkway, setting him down gently.

            “What’s going on with you?” Allura asks, kneeling down in front of him as soon as he’s settled.

            “N-Nothin’—”

            “It’s not nothing,” Shiro interrupts. “Matt, I _know you._ What’s wrong?”

            _I_ _’m bi as fuck and the only two people I’ve ever liked are my best friends and now they’re dating each other,_ Matt wants to reply. _I_ _’d die for the both of you and I can’t even explain it. You guys mean the world to me and I want you to be happy but I’m actually dying._

            “’M stressed,” Matt mutters in response.

            Shiro gives Allura a look, one Matt knows too well, and Matt forces himself to lie, and explains that school is getting to him and he’s worried about Shiro’s health and a whole bunch of other bullshit that Matt hopes he can use his drunkenness as an excuse for.

            By the end of it he’s in tears, sandwiched between Shiro and Allura.

            “It’ll be spring break soon,” Allura whispers.

            “Do you wanna see my therapist the next time I go?” Shiro offers.

            _I don_ _’t need therapy, I’m so sorry—_

            Matt shakes his head. “Need sleep…”

* * *

            Matt goes home for spring break in April and throws himself into the mundanity of his everyday life. He goes to Target and works shifts with a brighter grin than ever before, and the only coworker to notice is Shiro. When he’s not working, he’s home, spending time with Pidge. She knows something’s wrong the moment he approaches her and asks to play a video game he absolutely hates but she absolutely loves.

            Just like with the breakup, Matt pours his heart out to her.

            “Your life sucks,” Pidge says, and Matt reprimands her for using such a word when she’s in the fourth grade, but she waves him off.

            “What do I do about it?” Matt groans, throwing a hand over his forehead.

            He’s on his back on Pidge’s bed, while Pidge fiddles with some gadget she got for cheap at Barnes & Noble the week before for her birthday.

            “I’m ten, why are you asking me?” she asks.

            “Because I’m a disaster of a human being,” Matt replies.

            “You’re the smartest person I know,” Pidge says. “Figure it out.”

* * *

            “Keith, what do I do if Matt’s being reckless and won’t tell me why and I feel like it has something to do with me?”

            Shiro’s on the floor, face smushed against the carpet while Keith lays on his stomach on his bed, turning the pages in another book Shiro suspects is either about aliens or cryptids. Maybe both.

            “I’m twelve. I’m not a love expert,” Keith says. “I’ve got my own problems.”

            “I don’t need a love expert—”

            “You’re asking about Matt.”

            “We broke up last year, you know this.”

            Keith peers over the side of the bed at Shiro long enough to throw a glare in his direction. “Yeah, whatever. Talk to him. I don’t know. I’m not sure if you noticed, I have like, one friend, and it’s Pidge, and it’s because you and Matt were married for like, four years.”

            And then Keith goes back to reading his book, and Shiro groans loudly.

            “ _Keeeeeith,_ you’ve gotta help meeee—”

            Shiro’s met with a book to the face.

* * *

            It’s Allura who finally has enough of it.

            She, Matt, and Shiro sit down in the back of the same diner they used to frequent in their high school days. It’s quiet now, nearly midnight, and there are few other patrons here. The waitstaff leaves them alone after they order smoothies and decline food, giving them all the space they need.

            “Something’s going on here,” Allura says.

            She sits across the table from Matt and Shiro, eyes narrowed as she stares down the two of them.

            “We’re all friends,” she goes on, and no one corrects her that _no, you_ _’re Shiro’s_ girl _friend_. “Friends tell each other when they’re having problems. Neither of you are speaking up, and _as your friend,_ it’s concerning me. What’s happening?”

            On some level, she knows that Matt and Shiro’s problems have to do with each other. On some level, she knows it must stem from the breakup. She waits for Matt or Shiro to confirm her train of thought, and tries not to get too hopeful when Matt finally sighs down at the table, refusing to look at either of the people with him.

            “I’m worried, okay?”

            He swirls the contents of his smoothie cup with his straw. “I’m—school is stressful. And I’m worried about Shiro, bouncing between school and taking care of Keith, and I’m worried about all of us. I…I just want all three of us to be happy, you know? Obviously I haven’t exactly been coping well.”

            So he won’t say it.

            Allura won’t push it.

            “You don’t need to worry about me,” Shiro says. “I think I’m starting to get things under control. Seeing a therapist has been helpful, and I can’t thank the both of you enough for what your families have been doing for me. I feel…I feel like things are going to get easier as time goes on. I’m—well, I’m not happy that you’re worried, but I’m grateful for the concern. But I’m okay.”

            And Shiro won’t say it either.

            “Listen to me,” Allura says, and leans forward on the table. Shiro and Matt both look up at her.

            There are so many emotions swirling in their eyes, emotions that they force down, words that die in the backs of their throats, and she can’t make them open up if they don’t want to.

            “The three of us? We’re making a pact, right now.”

            She nods at Shiro, nods at Matt.

            “No matter what’s going on, from this moment forward, we’re getting through it together, do you understand? We haven’t been friends for this long for nothing. Whatever happens, we’ve got each other. All in?”

            She places her palm down flat in the center of the table. Matt and Shiro look at her, and look at each other. Hesitantly, Shiro places his hand on top of hers, and Matt puts his hand on Shiro’s.

            There’s insincerity in the weight of their hands, and she doesn’t call them out. They’ll open up when they’re ready. There’s no doubt in Allura’s mind that they’ll be able to push through everything from here on out. When one of them talks, the other two will listen. When one of them cries, the other two will be there offering shoulders.

            When Allura sees the thin smiles on Matt and Shiro’s faces, she knows that much is certain.

**Author's Note:**

> idk how i feel about this, how do you guys feel? i'm using these requests partly as exercise to improve my writing skills/try some different styles, so, uhh, lemme know. more requests coming soon.


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